


thought i found a way (out), guess i gotta stay (now)

by writesbystarfruit (orphan_account)



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Imagine your OTP, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Nature, No Proofreading We Die Like Men, Open to Interpretation, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Original Fiction, Sad, Suicide, Triggers, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21869332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/writesbystarfruit
Summary: It really should have been done long ago, he thinks.It's time.*potential trigger warnings in the notes at the beginning of the chapter*





	thought i found a way (out), guess i gotta stay (now)

**Author's Note:**

> *warning: potential triggers, talks about suicide by drowning!*
> 
> heyyy guys!
> 
> this is just a oneshot that i wrote in thirty minutes because i've been procrastinating on studying for finals haha (whOOPS)
> 
> you can interpret it however you wish, whether it's with just an OOC or with your own favorite characters (since the fic only refers to the main character as "he")
> 
> it was originally supposed to be in the perspective of loki from the mcu (hence why there's the paragraph about ebony hair + brothers + his mom), but it didn't feel in character, so i just changed it to an original character, edited out a few details, and bada bing bada boom here's this sad oneshot
> 
> it's also just writing practice, so feel free to leave constructive criticism + feedback in the comments or a kudos on your way out!! :)

The faded, waning sunlight slants through the window, illuminating dust particles floating lazily in the air. Hyptonized, his drowsy eyes follow the wandering dust, tracing its winding path through the slim shaft of pale yellow before sinking into the darkness enveloping the rest of the house.

A tired sigh hisses out.

He knows it’s time. It should’ve been time years ago.

Still, he lets his thoughts wander to the past, unchecked. Nostalgia, a familiar friend, tightly embraces him with vague flashes of better times. He remembers running through the grand hall, ebony strands of silk hair thrown back as he pushed himself to sprint faster, faster, faster! He remembers seeing his brother’s electric blue eyes filled with mirth, urging him to hurry up. He remembers hiding under the protective branches of the grand oak tree during stifling summer days, when the raging sun’s rays were as golden as his brother’s hair. He can still feel the knobbly, age-old bark rubbing roughly against his neck. He can still feel the ghost of his mother’s warm, comforting touch guiding his hands to create a complicated spell.

It seems fitting, of course, that Death would come during the evening, when the darkest hours approach and all of life’s colors bleed away to create an impenetrable black. 

He thought he was ready to leave.

But he wasn’t. Not without saying goodbye.

A shaky inhale. A pounding heart. Trembling hands grasp his phone and punch in ten numbers. 

Three monotonous rings pierce the heavy, dead silent air. On the fourth, a guarded baritone voice travels through the crackling connection. 

“Haven’t you taken a hint yet?” it spits menacingly. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

The line cuts off with an abrupt snap.

He tries to swallow back the salty tears gathering in his eyes. 

He deserves it anyway.

It’s time.

He steps out of the dilapidated cabin, pausing at the door frame and surveying the room one last time.

His scant few personal belongings are draped across the room. They feel as lackluster as his spirit. His brown scarf droops over the rickety sofa in a last farewell. His dusty messenger bag seems to sink even lower in despair on the ashy table.

He sighs. He will miss this. 

But what needs to be done has to be done.

He takes a deep breath of the twilight air. He can feel the purples and pinks of the sunset swirling in his lungs, eventually settling deep in his body.

He pushes past the waist-high grasses and cattails. They part easily for him, like subjects bowing to a king, but silently move back once he passes. They are like the court that he once frequented, showing respect to his face and gossiping behind his back. But it won’t matter in a few minutes.

Nothing will matter.

The dirt is solid under his soles. It is the sole provider of comfort for him. Its solidness seems to reassure him that it’s real, it’s not another fevered dream or hallucination.

He reaches the lake in what seems like no time. The surface is calm - no ripples, no waves. It reflects the sereneness of dusk, when everything is not quite asleep but not quite awake either.

God, he will miss this. He will miss so much. But it has to be done.

He steels his nerves one last time. Takes a deep breath in, feels the caress of a breath of summer wind, exhales out.

He steps into the lake, one foot at a time.

The water is gentle against his legs. It entrances him, how clear and tranquil the lake is.

He goes deeper. The water rises to his calves, his knees, his thighs. 

Still he keeps going. 

It goes up to his waist, his ribs, his shoulders, his neck. 

Still he keeps going.

When it passes his eyes and all he can see is a muted indigo, he wonders where the panic is. But it never sets in. The water seems to muffle all sounds, all sights. He feels as if he is alone in the world.

The lake seems to welcome him. Its water gently pulls at his legs, letting him sink deeper into the velvety indigo, the soundless abyss.

He breathes in. The water is refreshing, an anchoring weight in his lungs. He breathes out, and pearly bubbles float up, each one encapsulating a part of him. They drift into the brighter surface of the lake, which seems so close yet so far away.

He breathes in again. More water settles in his lungs. It soothes his spirit in a way nothing else ever has.

He is at peace.

At last.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! please leave comments/kudos on your way out :))
> 
> constructive criticism or other feedback is appreciated


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